


I Need Healing

by cecilantro



Series: 100 Days Of Ficlets [52]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14370372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: Mostly fluff, partially Nott.





	I Need Healing

Caleb is used to waking up to Mollymauk half-slung across his chest or waist, especially in the field after a dangerous stint, Caleb is the squishiest, he needs protected the most. He’s grown accustomed to waking up with one arm exposed to the chill air, because he’s wound his fingers in Molly’s hair as he sleeps. He’s used to Fjord moving during the night, a little closer, only occasionally has Caleb woke to find Fjord’s back flat to his and Molly limp across the both of them.   
He doesn’t  _ understand _ why Molly does what he does, not for a while. He makes assumptions and joins the dots he can see, heedless of those that he can’t, or is ignoring, the ones that hover at the periphery of his thought and vision at all times that he blinks and shakes away when they come too close, his history a barrier and impulse between Caleb and the idea that anyone can care about him for  _ him, _ not just as an asset.   
He only begins to comprehend when his history can no longer stand up against the battering ram of love and acceptance and support that is Mollymauk and everything he does, from falling asleep atop Caleb and Fjord, to kissing Caleb’s knuckles when he’s caught casting in an emergency, his hands unbound and bearing the winding burning scars that come from his magic. The bandages take the brunt, usually, the tips of his fingers perpetually blackened and ashy to the point that he no longer feels that. The snaking, angry red lines that follow the path his spiralling Fire Bolt took, they’re a testament to the amount of protection Caleb pads himself out with. Mollymauk has everything in those pockets of his, Jester is tapped, Molly pulls a bottle from his pocket and tips it, shakes it until a gloop of clear gel splooges out into the palm of one hand, he sets the bottle down and holds the free hand out for Caleb’s arm. He’s so tired, it hurts so much, that he scooches closer and gives himself over to Molly willingly.   
Molly, very gently, props Caleb’s arm between his knees in a place where the burning spiral doesn’t touch cloth, and begins to scoop bits of the gel up and rub them, as lightly as possible, into the burnt skin. Caleb bites down each hiss of pain, Molly starts at the inside of his wrist and works down the spiral to his elbow, and Caleb is forced to admit, wherever Molly has smeared with the gloop feels better, as though the heat trapped under the skin is seeping away. Molly finishes the spiral, and moves back to Caleb’s palm, the worst, where the fire had pooled and collected for a split second longer than the spiral, he splooges the last of the gel and uses two fingers to smooth it over.   
“Thank you, Mollymauk.” Caleb says, tiredly, and Molly smiles in a way that twists and twangs at Caleb’s heart, pained or sad, he can’t tell, could be something else entirely.   
“Anything to help.”   
He finishes his work and re-corks the bottle, he’s used half of the gel in there, it’s not the biggest that he owns, it’s also not the smallest. The smallest is his lavender oil, but he has so many, it’s a wonder there’s room for anything else.   
“I- may I ask, one more favour?” Caleb asks, can’t fight the shiver, it’s the dead of night and he’s shirtless, unless you count an entire roll of bandages over yet another crossbow wound to his chest, just lucky enough to miss the vitals, and part of the reason that Jester is so exhausted that she’s passed out in Beau and Yasha’s arms, the three of them lie about ten feet away in a Jester-sandwich, Yasha’s the only one barely awake. Caleb catches the faint glow of  _ healing hands _ , Yasha’s palm is flat to Jester’s cheek and for a moment, Jester’s eyes blink open at the light. She smiles weakly, leans up, and kisses Yasha, and then she’s gone again and Yasha follows her a few moments later.   
Nott comes limping to Caleb’s side, followed momentarily by Fjord.   
“How- how are you doing?” He asks her, there’s a hand on her shoulder, Molly waits patiently for him to finish before he can reply, despite Caleb having asked him the question.   
“Not too bad, I think.” Nott smiles, and winces immediately afterwards, a hand shoots to her shoulder, Caleb uses his left hand to gently tug her cloak away with her hand atop to check the long cut. She was lucky, really, that she had only been grazed by the dagger, it stretched from her shoulder blade, over the top, to almost her clavicle, but it was not deep. And now, it was bandaged, very skillfully, Caleb looks from the bandaging to Fjord who shrugs.   
“Was harder t’ convince Nott,” he rubs her head gently, “To let me see under her  _ fuckin _ ’ cloak, even though we’ve bathed together.”   
Nott turns to scowl at him, but his expression is open and amicable,   
“I appreciate you showin’ me that level of trust, Nott, I’m pokin’ fun, I’m sorry.”   
Her scowl fades a little and she tentatively shuffles over to pat his arm, forcing Caleb to let go of her..   
“Fjord let me bandage his shoulder.” She tells him, and points, and even though Nott is used to winding bandages for combat and costume rather than medical use, her work appears to be firm and neat, if not as minimalist as Fjord’s. He ghosts his fingertips over the top of the red splodge just peeking through the layers of padding and bandage.   
“Just th’ right amount of pressure, I think. Y’ did real well.”   
Nott beams, and turns, finally, to Molly.   
“What about you, Molly? Were you hurt?”   
Molly chuckles,   
“Only what I do to myself.” He tells her, flashes the bright red lines on the skin between the laces of his bracer, “They stop bleeding much faster than normal wounds.”   
Caleb moves up instinctively, keeps his burnt arm carefully out of the way and takes Molly’s wounded arm in his hand. He lifts and presses a kiss to the gnarled, old scars of skin between the two new cuts, and Molly’s eyes widen, he swears blind that his heart stutters in his chest.   
A silence begins to stretch, and Caleb resurfaces to himself, straightens up and meets Molly’s eyes, searching. A moment, anxiety and panic threatens in a bubble at the bottom of Caleb’s throat and he  _ refuses _ , this is Molly. It’s  _ his _ Mollymauk, he knows, he tells himself firmly, Molly doesn’t mind, Molly won’t hate him, Molly  _ cares _ . Even if he made a bad choice, Molly won’t leave. He won’t leave.   
Caleb shrugs.   
“That is what you do to me when I injure myself.” and wiggles the fingers of his burnt hand, “I- I thought I ought to, to repay, the favour.” His voice betrays him in the last leg of the race, Molly’s shocked expression fades out, replaced with a warm smile, his eyes fill with what can only be accurately described as the sensation of a gentle but firm hug. And, funnily enough, that’s exactly what he gives Caleb next, pulls his arms up around his shoulders and squeezes in just the right place to avoid aggravating the crossbow wound, just the right place to avoid his gel-covered, burnt right hand. Caleb sets his hand to Molly’s back and tries his best to squeeze back, it’s very hard with only one arm.   
Molly tucks his face into the crook of Caleb’s neck and waits a few moments to talk,   
“Caleb? A favour?”   
“This- this was it.” Caleb replies, as hushed as Molly’s own voice, “Do- please, do not leave me tonight.”   
Molly squeezes again and draws back from the hug, he catches Caleb’s good hand in the downswing and holds tight.   
Nott is leaning against Fjord, heavily, Caleb knows her signature signs of exhaustion and this is, to some degree, one of them. Generally, she would sway and stumble alone upright, it’s another real mark of the bond and trust she’s formed to Fjord, and it’s certainly hard not to. Fjord always seems to be the understanding one, when problems are explained to him. The peacekeeper, even if he loses his head in stressful times, he manages somehow to keep it. Threatening and cold, tempered anger is not a tactic that Caleb ever wants used against him again, but he understands, even if he doesn’t agree with Fjord’s views.   
Fjord looks to her and mumbles something, so quiet that Caleb can’t even make it out, and she nods, tilts her head to rest against his hip, she’s so short compared to him it’s almost funny. He pats her shoulder, and she stands upright again,   
“Night, Caleb. Don’t stay up long, I heard Yasha say she’s waking us at dawn tomorrow.”   
“I’d like to see her try.” Molly is the one to respond with a smirk, “Never managed it with me.”   
“Haven’t you told us multiple times that Yasha would- would pick you up and carry you, if you would not get up?”   
“That’s true.” Molly nods, the smirk is still there, “But she’s never managed to wake me yet. Not for petty reasons like responsibility, at least.”   
“I- I have woken you for the day before.” Caleb squeezes his hand, and Molly turns, presses a quick kiss to Caleb’s forehead,   
“You’re a special case. You and Fjord.” He jerks his head in Fjord’s direction, when they look over, Nott is gone, given up halfway through their banter and climbing down into the pile of blankets that doesn’t even pass as her bedroll any more, she’s messed it up so much.   
“Goodnight.” Caleb calls in a voice clear, one he knows carries without needing the volume, and she waves to him without looking.   
Molly pulls Caleb by the hand to Fjord’s side, claps a hand to the warlock’s chest, firm and somewhat affectionate,   
“Right! Neither of my boys will be going far tonight. Fjord, can you still use that arm?”   
He pokes at the bracer on Fjord’s bandaged arm, and fingers flex in response.   
“It’s a scratch, Molly, ain’t no reason to fuss.”   
Molly raises his eyebrows at him.   
“Yes, I can still use my arm.” Fjord monotone deadpans, a flat, matching look in response.   
“Good! Go grab your bedroll, and spare blankets, bring them to mine.”   
“Is this really necessary?” Caleb says, irked, Molly turns to him and kisses his cheek this time. It’s all the response he gives before he’s off to Caleb’s bedroll and forced to let go of Caleb’s hand to scoop everything up.   
It takes Molly all of five minutes to make a Nott-style blanket pile big enough for the three of them to sleep comfortably in, without one being draped over the top of the others.   
He takes one blanket, though, from their precious nest, and moves silently to throw it over Yasha, Jester, and Beau, still caught up in their Jester sandwich. Beau and Yasha each have an arm thrown over Jester, and Jester has a hand settled to each of their arms, and Molly is going to tease all three of them absolutely fucking silly over this in the morning. He covers them and tucks the edge around Yasha with a hushed mumble of affection, he stoops to kiss her hair. He’d do the same for Beau, but the last time he tried, he ended up with a broken rib from her lighting danger sense. Jester had not had a fun time that night.   
He returns to Caleb and Fjord, who are already snuggled down together, it marks the first time that Caleb has slept with his back to Fjord’s chest, his burnt arm tucked carefully to his chest. Fjord’s good arm is slipped in the space under Caleb’s head, the angle of his neck, his bad arm rests lightly with his hand on Caleb’s hip and they both stare at Molly as he approaches.   
“Fuckin’ tired, Molly.” Fjord says, faux-angrily, muffled by the back of Caleb’s head where his lips are pressed.   
“Sorry.” Molly smiles and sheds his coat to drop down beside them, shuffling in so that he can settle his cheek on Fjord’s hand, the arm underneath Caleb, who is trying his damndest to pull Molly in by his collar. He lets him, briefly, the quickest and sleepiest kiss that Molly has ever had.   
He settles down and clasps Caleb’s good hand in one of his own, pulls the blanket up and over them with the other, and falls asleep.


End file.
